


fated to be yours

by aliciaxadrienne



Category: American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: F/M, Fingering, Flirting, Light Smut, Self-Insert, i'm a big slut for michael so tell me to write more and i will, possible multi chapter fic if there is interest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 00:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17456774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliciaxadrienne/pseuds/aliciaxadrienne
Summary: a chance encounter at a high school party she is too old for leads y/n to meet michael langdon, although he seems to think they know each other a lot better than she remembers..





	fated to be yours

**Author's Note:**

> this is my official return to fic writing, and hopefully it will be the start of many more writings!! i'm a bit late to the party but i just can't resist michael, he's a babe! 
> 
> wrote this in a couple hours. unbeta'd but i did my best to correct any errors. please leave feedback, it would make me very very happy xx

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They met, like most partners do, in a completely mundane way. No, there’s no meet-cute to be seen here, instead, Y/N had been dragged to a party in the neighborhood that was neither a rager or a complete disappointment, by her close friend from high school. They are, admittedly, too old to be attending parties thrown by 18-year-olds, but Simone had insisted that Y/N go out for once, and, like the total push-over that she was, Y/N had given in. Perhaps she had been pushed by fate to go out that night, but more likely than not, it was simply a complete fluke brought on by utter boredom.

Y/N was wearing one of her favorite dresses, red and form-fitting, yet not ridiculously uncomfortable, because her fashion sense was summed up perfectly by “I want people to think I’m trying, but I don’t actually want to put any effort in.” Besides Simone, she had no clue who was even going to be at the party, so it’s not like she was expecting to be swept off her feet for her ravishing good looks by a hormonal man that would either A) be in high school and therefore too young for her, or B) be a twentysomething attending a high school party, in which it would readily become apparent that he had peaked in those formative years and would never again be happy. 

In a somewhat surprising turn of events, however, Y/N was taken aback shortly after her arrival to see that Michael Langdon, someone she had always been curious about during those previously stated formative years, was just across the parlor from her. Simone had already disappeared, surely to find them some form of alcohol to ingest, and so Y/N sat alone on a suspiciously stained loveseat, her left hand dangling precariously off the armrest and her right playing with her earring. To any passerby, she was certain that she would look very off-putting and unapproachable, and that was just fine with her.

Michael Langdon had been two years below her in high school, and the stories of his “reputation” had continued to make their way into her consciousness even after she graduated. The rumors that his adopted mother, Ms. Mead, was a crazy Satanist, were basically accepted as fact by everyone in their town, even though no one had ever stepped foot inside her home, and her sudden adoption of Michael had been strangely concerning to many of the students. Perhaps because they rarely had new students, he was a hot ticket item to be gossiped about, but to Y/N, he was more than that. He was someone to be studied, because there was no way someone that attractive was only 16, and he got decently good grades for someone who apparently had been homeschooled before being pushed into the public school system for high school. 

They had never spoken before, and Y/N wasn’t sure they ever would have if it hadn’t been for Simone coming back into the parlor with a bottle of Fireball. 

“Jesus Christ, Sim, get away from me with that shit,” Y/N snorted in disgust, “you know I think it’s complete trash!”

Her friend, stupidly, did not allow that to phase her in the slightest. “Baby girl, it’ll get you drunk faster than anything else they have, so you better drink up if you want this night to ever end.”

Y/N said nothing in response, choosing instead to look at Michael across the room, who was quietly talking to some blond kid that looked vaguely familiar. Simone followed her line of sight and started to wag her finger in Y/N’s face. “That’s that kid! The Satan worshipper!” 

At that exact moment, Michael’s eyes darted to Y/N and Simone on the couch. It sent shivers up Y/N’s spine and told her that something was about to change, maybe forever. “Shut up, Simone, don’t say stuff like that, it’s not polite.”

“Listen, I know you had a thing for him before we graduated, so I’ll just bring him over here, eh? It’s not like you’ll remember this in the morning anyway!” Simone laughed, but Y/N was still looking into Michael’s eyes, which from this far away, looked black.. But she knew that was just a trick of the dark lighting. “I told you, I’m not getting drunk tonight,” Y/N protested, but Simone was already moving off the loveseat again to go talk to Michael. It seemed like he had been waiting for her, because as soon as Simone moved, his eyes focused back onto the kid he was speaking with, as if to seem like he hadn’t just been watching the two girls intently. 

Y/N watched as Simone talked to Michael, and although the interaction could only have been 30 seconds at most, it felt like centuries had passed before he came over to sit next to her. There wasn’t a lot of room on the loveseat, so Simone passed the Fireball bottle to Michael and perched herself on the arm of the chair. Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat when Michael’s knee brushed against her thigh as he settled down. 

The three of them were silent for a minute as Simone took a gulp right out of the bottle like the painfully unself aware, but fearless, person she was. Y/N wished she could be like that, especially right now. She wouldn’t say that she had a crush on Michael back in school, but she would say that she found him almost inhumanly beautiful and that she wouldn’t hesitate to ride him all night if he expressed any interest in her whatsoever. 

She felt Michael stir next to her, and he looked at her once again, although now there was only a few feet, three at most, between their faces. Y/N could clearly see his jawline that could cut glass, and also the deep, ocean-like blue eyes that were boring into her soul. There were definitely sparks of gold in there, she thought simply. 

“Hi, Y/N,” Michael uttered, but it sounded like he was singing it, in a way that was simultaneously making Y/N feel her resolve not to drink crumbling so that she wouldn’t remember how much she would surely embarrass herself, but also made her want to burn the image of his lips forming her name into her subconscious so that she would always remember it. She clasped her hands in her lap, almost prayer-like, hoping her face wasn’t burning a furious red.

“Hey, Michael,” Y/N confidently greeted with all the enthusiasm of a Disney park employee, “how are you?” 

A gentle smirk had found its way onto his face, and Y/N thought she might keel over and die if he kept looking at her. “I’m alright, not really sure why I’m here, but now that I’m with you two ladies, this night can only get better.” Behind him, Simone rolled her eyes, clearly not interested in being talked to so flirtily by what she perceived as a possible psychopath. Y/N knew that Simone didn’t share her same interest in Michael, and that while she was very aware of his attractiveness, she “didn’t like fixer-uppers.”

“As flattering as that it is, Michael, I’m gonna go check out the hot tub,” Simone smiled, “I’ll leave you guys the Fireball, though!” Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but her friend simply mouthed “You’re welcome,” shoved the bottle into Michael’s grip, and walked towards the back of the house. 

Y/N became painfully aware of how few people were actually in the living room with them. The blonde guy that Michael had been speaking with had left the room a couple moments before Simone, and besides one clearly coked out idiot in the corner playing with the surround sound system, there was only one other couple in the room, clearly not paying attention to their surroundings as they made out furiously on the other couch. 

Michael seemed to be perfectly content with their lack of company. The silence that had settled over them was buzzing with anxiety, at least from Y/N’s point of view. She desperately wanted to say something that would be cool, or endearing, or at the very least, memorable, but nothing was coming to mind. So instead of saying anything, she took the Fireball out of Michael’s hand and picked two shot glasses off of the coffee table in front of her, carefully pouring one each, giving herself a smidge more alcohol than Michael, to take the edge off. 

“Is that for little old me?” Michael looked at Y/N again, and she just nodded, handing him the tiny shot. “Thank you,” he murmured, brushing his lips up against her ear as his much larger hand eclipsed hers to exchange the glass.

“Of course, we both have to get through this night somehow, right?” Y/N giggled, suddenly feeling like the temperature had risen despite the rest of her body feeling slightly cold. Clearly the heating wasn’t being paid for by whoever owned this party house. 

“I feel like I know you rather well, Y/N,” Michael stated after downing the shot in one fell swoop. Y/N watched his Adam’s apple bob and wished that she could reach out and lick it. 

“Well, we went to high school together, for a couple years at least,” She said, and that was all she could really think of. They really hadn’t spoken before this evening, even though she definitely would have given him the time of day if he had asked. “I’ve definitely met your mother at the deli before, she’s very nice.”

“Yes, Ms. Mead is an angel among us demons,” Michael chuckled, like he had an inside joke with himself. Y/N half heartedly smiled in an attempt to seem like she appreciated the attempt at humor, even if she had no clue what Ms. Mead really was like, considering the town thought of her as a completely loony. “But that’s not what I mean. High school was barely memorable to me. I mean, I feel like I really know you, Y/N.”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to understand what kind of pick-up line he could possibly be getting at. “If you know me so well, what’s my favorite color?”

Without hesitation, “Purple,” said Michael, “the color of royalty.”

Y/N tried not to let her being impressed show on her face. After all, there aren’t that many colors to choose from. And technically, purple wasn’t really her favorite color, it was actually.. 

‘The shade known as Byzantium, to be more specific. Darker than typical purple we see everywhere. I like it, too.” Michael smiled at her, and Y/N was puzzled as to how he had seemingly completed her thought. 

“That’s right,” she replied, her eyes focused on his lips, which were very pink. It almost looked like he was wearing lip balm, his lips looked so soft. “How did you know that?”

Michael didn’t answer her, instead he rose from the loveseat and held his hand out to her. “I’d like to take you somewhere more private, if you’d like to talk more.”

Y/N took his hand. Goddamn, he was making her second-guess every little thing, yet being in his presence felt like she was in some kind of romantic drama. He certainly looked like he belonged on a movie set, or on a billboard in Los Angeles. Michael led her outside, down the street past where Simone had parked, to a black car that looked very high-end, absolutely too nice for a 19 year old like Michael to own. But Y/N chose not to question it. He opened the passenger side door for her, and she slid in. 

“Where are we going?” She asked when Michael got into the driver’s seat beside her and started the engine.

“Nowhere, I just wanted to get out of that house.”

“Ooookay..” Y/N nodded, and hoped that an add-on to that sentence was and be alone with you.

“I have to be honest with you, Y/N,” Michael started, uncertainty lacing his voice, and he looked towards her for confirmation. She nodded again. “I have wanted to touch you for the longest time.”

Y/N felt a jolt of excitement run through her body and if she wasn’t sitting, she certainly would have fallen over at his remark. “Touch me.. How?” She asked, trying to hedge her bets in case he meant something completely unremarkable.

It felt like they had been looking at each other for ages before he replied in a tone that was sultrier than Y/N expected. “All over, and I especially want to kiss you right now.”

“Kiss me, then.” Y/N whispered, surprised that she had a voice at all.

She had barely gotten the words out before his lips were on hers. And oh, how right she had been. Michael’s lips were softer than any man’s Y/N had ever felt before. Most of the time she was bothered by fuzz on their upper lip, or a dry feeling from kissing cracked lips, but Michael was clearly blessed.

Her thoughts quieted and turned almost entirely to static when she felt him reach over the center console and place a hand on her lower thigh. His fingers slowly moved up past the hemline of her dress, and it felt like he was leaving a burning sensation behind on each patch of skin Michael touched. When he cupped her through the fabric, Y/N’s breath stuttered and she hoped to god that she wasn’t wet enough for him to feel through the thin fabric of her dress. She wanted him, but she still had pride.

Michael pulled back from her lips and gently pushed her thong to the side, brushing his fingers against her cunt, gathering some of her wetness on them. “You better be careful, angel,” he whispered before pushing one wet finger into Y/N’s mouth, voice hot with desire, “there’s nothing I’d love to do more than ravage you right here, and make you scream for me.” He dipped his fingers back down again, this time rubbing two against her clit. It felt incredible, partially because she had never expected this from him, of all people. She thought she had been pretty understated in her desire for him..

“Then why don’t you?” Y/N tried to sound as sensual as she possibly could. Car sex had never seemed terribly realistic to her, but here she was, about to get rawed by someone who was barely an acquaintance. It was so unlike her to do things like this, but her entire body was almost vibrating with need and Michael had only been touching her for a few moments. His fingers scissored inside her cunt as if to prepare her for what was to come, in more ways than one. She felt his lips on her neck and the moan that rolled off her tongue was unavoidable. She gripped his forearm, digging her nails into the skin deep enough to leave a mark when he pulled back. “Please take me,” Y/N muttered softly, not caring where they were or how little she actually knew about Michael, “I’ll do anything you want if you just fuck me right now.”

“I know you would,” Michael replied, and somehow it didn’t sound cocky, even given their current situation, his fingers deep inside her, her hair gripped in his fist. “But you’re not ready yet, princess.” He withdrew his fingers from Y/N and licked the wetness off of each of them, before wiping his hand on his jeans. Y/N breathed out of rhythm, desperate for more. “But- p-p-please, Mich-” 

“As much as I would love to hear you beg even more for me,” He said, smiling sweetly at Y/N like there wasn’t fog on the car windows, “Let’s go back inside, I’m sure Simone is waiting for you. We’ll have more time to talk, and do other things, another day, I promise.”

In that moment, Y/N hated him so much that all her confusion from the past hour came bubbling up. “What’s going on? Why are you being so cryptic? Are you just fucking with me for a bet or something? I don’t like being played, especially not by-”

“Ssssh, darling,” Michael placed an arm around her, and she shivered from his warmth. “I’ll tell you, I promise. Another night.”

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End file.
